Chocolate Chip Pancakes
by Amy-Violet
Summary: A romantic pancake dinner. Set after the events of The Chocolate Chip Incident, but you don't have to read that first. Written for Blam week "Kink" theme.


Sam rushed straight home after school, not really believing he and Blaine were really going to do what they had talked about. It was either going to be really weird or really fucking awesome. Maybe both.

He checked the house and locked all the doors and closed all the curtains before he got started. Carole had gone to D.C. to spend the weekend with Burt, Kurt was safely in New York, as was Finn, who was trying to rekindle things with Rachel, but Sam was still slightly nervous. He and Blaine had been surprised in a compromising position in this house before. And if any one but Blaine were to see the outfit he was about to put on...Well, shit, his life would just be over.

He didn't change _right_ away. First he wanted to check the smoke detector in the kitchen. This was going to be his first time cooking anything since that cake baking disaster where Blaine's house ended up burning down while he and Blaine slept in postcoital oblivion.

Assured that the smoke detector was in good working order and that the fire extinguisher was nearby, he realized it was time to stop stalling and get started. Blaine would be home from Cheerios practice soon. Gulp!

He couldn't bring himself to change right there in the kitchen, even though he was completely alone. If anything that made it feel weirder. So...well, he should probably take a quick shower first anyway. Make sure he looked good for Blaine and smelled good for Blaine. Even though he knew that Blaine kind of preferred the way he smelled when he hadn't just showered.

After showering, brushing his teeth, and combing his hair, he finally couldn't think of any more reasons not to put the thing on already.

It had started out as kind of a joke between him and Blaine when they saw it at the mall. It was the frilliest 1950s housewife apron they had ever seen. Pale pink and yellow. It fell above the knee and didn't cover the back at all except for a giant bow to tie it in place.

"You would look so hot in that, baby," Blaine had said.

"Yeah, that would be hilarious," Sam said. But he saw the lust in Blaine's eyes just picturing him in it and, yeah, he had to make that happen for real. So they bought it—Blaine bought it for him. Sam didn't usually like Blaine buying him expensive stuff (and who knew an apron could be expensive?), but in this case it seemed totally appropriate.

Well, it was now or never. Actually, "never" was starting to sound like a good option. This was probably a mistake. Maybe he should just greet Blaine with no clothes on at all. He'd feel way less uncomfortable that way.

But no. He'd done nudity with Blaine plenty of times before. Not that it wasn't fun. But this other thing was...yeah, it was something he really wanted to try. He closed his eyes and put it on.

He had no trouble tying the strings at the back of the neck. But getting the big fluffy bow above his butt to look like the one on the mannequin at the store...that was trickier than he thought. He had to reposition two of Kurt's full-length mirrors and stand between them to try to see what he was doing. And it still didn't help that much because he kept getting confused about whether the image he was looking at was backwards or not. Besides which, the image itself! He didn't spend a lot of time looking at his own ass anyway, and having to look at it with a poorly tied pink bow above it was a little unsettling.

Wow, for the tiny amount of clothing he had on, it had really taken him a long time to get into it! He couldn't waste any more time; he really had to get started on dinner. He ran down to the kitchen and got out the ingredients.

The only things Sam knew how to cook were breakfast foods. Blaine had liked the chocolate chip pancakes his dad made for them when they visited in Kentucky, so that's what he would make tonight. He knew they wouldn't turn out as good as his father's, but at least it was the same recipe.

The front door opened and Blaine yelled, "Honey? I'm home!" Just like they'd planned.

It actually sent a little thrill through Sam. But, shit, he wasn't ready yet. He pressed himself against the wall where Blaine wouldn't see him yet and yelled back, "Come back in five minutes!"

"What? Sam..."

"Seriously. I'm not ready."

"It's starting to rain."

"Go sit in the car then."

Blaine stood in the doorway for a minute, not coming in or going out. When the door shut, he was on the outside of it.

Sam rushed to set the table and put the food out. He pulled out a cocktail glass and looked under the sink where Burt and Carole didn't think anyone knew they kept the liquor. Not that Sam had ever taken any before, but it was a special occasion. He pulled out the gin and—damn it, what else went in a martini? He knew he'd recognize it if he saw it. But there was nothing else down there but whisky and vodka, and he was pretty sure it was neither of those. Well, straight gin then. And a green olive from the jar in the fridge.

The next time Blaine opened the door and announced, "Honey, I'm home," Sam forced himself to rush out and greet him at the door, like they'd planned. The martini was his own idea, though, and a surprise to Blaine. He took it from Sam and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, baby. My, don't you look pretty today! Turn around and let me see."

Sam turned around slowly. He knew he was blushing, so he kept his back to Blaine for a while so he wouldn't notice. Well, that and he figured that was the side Blaine wanted to look at most anyway, as long as he had the apron covering the good parts in the front.

Blaine wrapped his arms around Sam from behind and nuzzled into his neck. "Oh my fucking God, you look so hot, Sammy," he whispered in his ear. "I so wanna skip everything else and just fuck you now."

Sam was enjoying the way Blaine was holding him and kissing his neck, but there was no way he willing to skip ahead yet. He swatted Blaine playfully and said, "After I cooked and made you a martini? Forget it!"

Letting out a disappointed groan, Blaine let go. He took a sip of his drink and choked on it.

"No good?" Sam asked worriedly.

"It's...strong."

Sam nodded. "It's just gin with an olive. Carole and Burt don't have the other ingredient." Whatever that was. He watched expectantly until Blaine took another tiny sip, this time without choking.

He was about to lead Blaine to the dining room when he remembered he had another line. "How was your day, honey?"

Then Blaine was supposed to say, "Seeing you makes it all better." But apparently he was still a little miffed about not being allowed to come inside right away, because what he actually said was, 'I got rained on and I'm all wet."

Sam touched his cheek. "Poor baby. Come in the kitchen with me and I'll make it better." He started toward the kitchen without waiting for Blaine, who he suspected would rather walk a few steps behind him for the view. He was right.

When they were both in the kitchen, Sam told him to sit down. He then proceeded to bend over to look in every lower drawer and cupboard for the towels. After he'd checked every one thoroughly he proclaimed, "Silly me!" and pulled one out of the waist-level drawer they were always in.

He stood directly in front of Blaine, between his legs, while he dried off his hair. Blaine resisted a little, but not too much. He knew that Sam loved messing his hair up as much as he himself hated having it messed—maybe more. And he knew that toweling off his damp hair would release the watermelon scent of his gel, which always made Sam hard. He tried to slide his hands under the apron to see if the gel was doing its thing, but Sam swatted them away.

After he'd dried and mussed Blaine's hair—and, yeah, the gel was doing its thing—Sam knelt in front of the chair. It was really tempting, while he was down there, to take Blaine's earlier suggestion and just forget about all this dinner stuff. But all he did was take off Blaine's wet sneakers. Then he stood and led the way to the dining room.

The pancakes were...well, they were mostly cold already. And there were a few lumps of flour that hadn't really gotten mixed in. But Sam had doubled the amount of chocolate chips in the recipe, so they had that going for them. Blaine was very sweet: he ate them without a second thought and he even told Sam how awesome they were.

Sam smiled because Blaine was always so kind and considerate. But then he had a different idea. He didn't want to say it out loud, even though they were totally alone, so he scooted his chair closer to Blaine's and whispered it in his ear.

Blaine wasn't totally receptive to his idea. "Seriously?" he said. "You want me to...no, I'm sorry, baby. I don't think I could do that."

Sam wasn't surprised by this answer. It was probably something they'd have to work up to slowly. So he whispered his back-up idea, which he thought was pretty toned down. Blaine was still a little skeptical. "Are you sure? That's what you really want?" Sam assured him that it was, that it would be fun. He whispered a few more details in his boyfriend's ear. "Well...okay," Blaine said. "But you know I don't mean it, right?"

"I know, Blainey. You're always super sweet to me. That's why I love you."

"But if that's _why_ you love me..."

"Come on! Just for fun? It's not like we haven't talked about it before."

"Well...okay."

Sam scooted back to his spot. He put on a nervous look and asked, "How's dinner, dear?"

Blaine set down his fork and sighed. A grin looked like it was about to break out, but he repressed it and said what Sam asked him to. "Cold and lumpy."

"I'm sorry," Sam said meekly.

"Damn it, Sam. You know how I like my pancakes. Is it too much to ask?"

"Can I...make it up to you somehow?"

"Is that why you're dressed like a whore? Because you knew you fucked up dinner and you wanted me to not notice?"

"Ooh, that's good," Sam said. But then he remembered he was supposed to be in character and he hung his head.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes. I thought if I dressed like a whore maybe you wouldn't care about the pancakes."

"You do make me get distracted when you're all hot and slutty looking like that."

Sam smiled and blushed while Blaine looked at him appraisingly. "So...is there something I can do to make up for ruining dinner?"

"Come here," Blaine said. Sam walked over to him and Blaine told him to turn around. He did, and Blaine stroked his bare cheeks. "You wanna make it up to me?"

"So much," Sam said.

"Can you do everything I tell you? Take everything I do to you?"

"Oh my God, yes." Sam couldn't remember whether he was supposed to act like he liked what was going on. But it would have been too difficult to pretend he didn't.

"Turn around and face me." When he did, Blaine lifted the apron so it was above the navel. "Hold this right here," he said to Sam, "and do not move." He leaned forward and took Sam's cock in his mouth.

The problem was that, due to Sam's height relative to the height of Blaine's chair, it made for a really awkward and uncomfortable angle. So he started to slide out of the chair, but Sam stopped him: "What are you doing?"

"Getting on the floor so I can reach your cock better."

"No!" Sam said. "I mean...I don't wanna top from the bottom or whatever, but...if anyone should be on their knees it should be me."

"Sammy, I don't think I wanna play this if I can't suck your dick at least a little."

"Just...hold on for a minute. Wait here." Sam headed toward the kitchen pantry. Before he got there he stopped to turn around and add, "Please."

He returned with a stepladder, which he set in front of Blaine's chair. But not only did none of the steps prove the right height for Sam to kneel on, every time he tried to he was pretty sure he was going to tip over.

Blaine stood and held his hand out. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

Blaine looked at him seriously. "I told you to do what I say. Not ask me questions."

Sam bit his lower lip, took his boyfriend's hand, and followed him to the living room. Blaine sat on the couch, next to the arm, and directed Sam to stand on the other side of the arm, facing him. "Spread your legs apart a little...A little farther...Good. Put your hands behind your back." Sam did as he was told.

Blaine reminded Sam not to move. He then tucked his legs under himself and swiveled so his elbows could rest on the arm of the couch. This way Sam's hard cock was right in front of his face—or would be, once the apron was out of the way. He lifted it and told Sam, "Here, hold...No, wait. I like your hands behind your back. Open your mouth." He put the apron hem between the two full lips and told Sam to hold it like that.

He brought his mouth right up to Sam's cock...right up to it but not _quite_ touching it. Close enough that Sam could feel the warmth of every breath. Close enough that when it twitched just a little bit it brushed against Blaine' lips all on its own. "You're lucky I know you couldn't help that," Blaine said. "Otherwise I'd count it as you moving when I told you not to."

"Blaine..." Sam said, not letting the apron out of his mouth.

Blaine told him, "No talking." He extended his tongue, gently pressing it against Sam's balls and dragging it up the shaft. He repeated the process a bit more firmly, then a bit more firmly again. Sam moaned and tried not to move. It was just really, really hard not to lean into Blaine's mouth. Apparently he wasn't quite succeeding because Blaine said, "I told you don't move. If you move again I'm going to stop."

"Please don't stop, Blaine," Sam said. The gauzy fabric fell from his mouth and the apron was covering him again.

Blaine sat back. "That's a shame, Sammy. I can't touch it anymore. It's too bad you had to talk when I told you not to."

Sam whined.

"Wait, I actually really want to suck your cock...I shouldn't have to suffer just because you had to go and talk. Should I?"

Sam shook his head vigorously.

"No, I don't think so either. Okay, new rule. You _can_ talk. But only to beg me to suck you."

Sam was totally on board with this new rule. "Please suck me, Blainey, please. Your mouth feels so good. I need it. I need it, please!"

Blaine lunged toward him, grabbed his ass and pulled him closer. No more of this gentle teasing crap. He didn't bother with making Sam hold the apron anymore either; he just let it rest over his head while he sucked his gorgeous boyfriend, who the whole time was begging him for more. He only stopped when he felt Sam getting too close.

"Blainey, please don't stop—"

"Get on your knees, Sammy." Blaine got off the couch and stood beside him. "You're going to suck me now."

Sam turned toward Blaine and dropped to his knees, still with his hands behind his back. He looked up and Blaine and asked, "Can I keep begging?"

"No, I'm done. I'm not ready for you to come yet."

"No, I mean...can I beg you to let me suck you?"

"Oh! Yeah, absolutely. I mean...Do you want my cock in your mouth, Sammy?"

"Yes. Please. Please let me have your cock in my mouth."

"You have to beg harder than that."

"Please, Blaine. Please! C'mon," he whined, "you know how much I love your cock."

Blaine slowly removed his jeans and briefs. He stroked himself, inches from Sam's face. "Is this what you want?"

"So much, Blaine. I want it so much." He wasn't even playing anymore.

Blaine stroked himself some more while Sam watched and moaned. He dabbed a little pre-come on his finger and held it out. "Want a taste?"

Sam nodded and whispered, "Please." He looked up pleadingly until Blaine gently pressed the finger to his lips. He sucked it greedily, maintaining eye contact. When Blaine pulled it away he said, "Please, Blainey. Please can I have the real thing now?"

Blaine didn't answer, not with words. He grabbed the back of Sam's head and pulled it to himself. He held it firmly in place while Sam sucked for all he was worth. "Oh fuck, Sammy, you're so good at that..." Sam wouldn't have stopped if Blaine hadn't pulled his head away after a while. "Are you ready?"

Sam looked up and nodded eagerly. This was it, the best part. The part where he got fucked. "How do you want me?"

"I guess we should go upstairs since our supplies are up there."

"No, man, I planned ahead." Sam unbuttoned the chest pocket on the apron and produced a small bottle of lube and a foil-wrapped condom.

Blaine said, "You're awesome, Sammy," which caused Sam to smile. He took a cushion off the couch, placed it on the floor, and repositioned Sam so his head and shoulders were resting on it. "Is this okay?"

It was an awkward position, to say the least. Sam would probably literally die if anyone but Blaine could see him in a frilly pink and yellow apron, head down, ass up and with a big pink bow above it like he was some kind of birthday present. But since this was for Blaine, he was good. "Fuck me," he said, "Please fuck me."

Blaine started applying the lube. "You can touch yourself while I prep you," he said, "but your hands have to go behind your back again when I fuck you. Unless...will that be too hard on your head and neck, do you think?"

"No," Sam assured him, stroking himself. "It'll be hot. In fact I think you should use that poofy bow to tie them up." Blaine loosened him up until Sam said, "I'm ready, Blainey. I can't take it anymore, not having your cock in me." Also, he had started jerking himself, even though he'd been trying really hard to do no more than stroke. "Tie my hands back and fuck me now."

Blaine removed his finger's from Sam's ass. He took his boyfriend's hands and placed them behind his back, untied the apron bow, and then retied it around his wrists. Then he went back to lubing and fingering.

"No, Blaine," Sam said. "I said I'm ready for you to fuck me."

"You also said earlier that you didn't want to top from the bottom."

"No, I know but...Come on, please, Blainey? Please fuck me?"

"That's more like it. Begging is better than ordering."

"Blainey, I'm not even kidding. Please, Blainey. I need it really bad." He tried to rock Blaine's fingers deeper into himself, but it was difficult. "How much more are you gonna make me beg? Please! _Please! _I'm dying for your cock, Blainey, please!"

Blaine didn't make him wait for it _that_ much longer. Sam yelped when he felt the cock enter him fast and hard. It was not a bad yelp. Blaine pounded into him relentlessly while Sam took it, biting down on the cushion when it felt like just too much...but in an awesome way.

He found himself struggling to get his hands free of the bow on his back, even though he was the one who'd asked for that. Maybe he hadn't thought Blaine would be able to tie them so securely—more likely he just hadn't thought it through at all—but now his dick was so achingly hard that not being able to touch it was torture.

"Blaine, baby, jerk me."

"Don't order me."

"Please, please jerk me, Blainey." Having to beg seemed a bit much when he needed it so bad, but if it's what Blaine insisted on hearing...

So he couldn't quite believe it when Blaine told him, "No."

"No, come on, Blaine. Pretty, pretty please."

"No."

"Blaine, I'm not even playing. I seriously need to come."

"Don't worry, baby," Blaine said, clutching his hips while he continued to pound. "I'll make sure you come." He moved Sam's legs a little farther apart and picked up the speed and the force of the fucking he was giving him. He knew just the right angle that would hit Sam's prostrate with every thrust, and he kept slamming it just the way that drove him crazy.

"Blaine, please..."

"I'm going to show you that you can come without touching your cock."

Sam didn't believe the old wives' tale...or, old husbands' tale, he guessed...that this was possible. It had always seemed totally implausible. But now he was...now he was starting to think... "Fuck, Blainey, I think it's gonna happen. I think you're really gonna make me come..."

"I know, baby. Go ahead and come. It's going to feel so amazing."

It was going to feel amazing, Sam could already tell. And he was close, he was almost there. He was rocking back on to Blaine as much as he could in his compromised position. He just...without being able to touch his dick he didn't know how he was going to be able to bridge that short distance between where he was now and orgasmic bliss.

It was Blaine's words that finally did it. "Come on, Sammy, I want you to come now," he urged. "Just let go and shoot your come all over yourself. I wanna feel your ass grip my cock even tighter than it is now and jerk it all around while you convulse with pleasure."

And Sam proceeded to do just that, yelling mindlessly. "Oh, Jesus fucking...oh God oh God...oh holy..." followed by nonsensical sounds, screaming, whining, gasping. His cock exploded and he thought his brain was going to as well. Blaine came too, holding Sam's hips firmly in place while pumping furiously and unloading.

They slowed and stilled together, breathing hard. Blaine untied Sam's hands. They were still catching their breath when they collapsed on the floor.

Sam was lying in a wet spot of his own come. "Blaine, baby? What do you think gets semen out of carpet?"

"How should I know? I thought cooking and cleaning and shit was your department."

"Huh? Oh," Sam rolled Blaine off his back and slipped off the apron. "You mean because of this?"

"Uh huh."

"Well if that's the way you're gonna be," he said, throwing it at Blaine, "you can wear it next time."


End file.
